Promotion
by Hamstercheese7
Summary: Smoker catches up on paperwork and realizes that Tashigi deserves a promotion. Crossposted to AO3.


**Notes: **

Hi folks, I haven't written fanfiction in literally a decade but all of a sudden I felt the urge. This is meant as a one-shot, but I might turn it into a two-shot, or short collection. I would love feedback!

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**One-Shot: Promotion **

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Smoker hated bedrest. He hated it more than the injuries that caused it. Laying around while there were pirates out and about, while his men worked. It irked him. Being on bedrest but given the OK for light work was the icing on the bullshit cake. Light work, AKA paperwork. And he despised paperwork. But he was a good marine, and that meant he would do it anyway. Admiral Akainu would want his report on Punk Hazard, the sooner the better when Strawhat was involved, and... Doflamingo. He grimaced, the slices and cuts across his body ached slightly in memory of the one who'd created them.

Said paperwork was piled on the side table next to him. With a defeated sigh, he snagged the top folder, titled _Incident Report _. One thing Smoker wasn't was a slacker, so he began the arduous process of thoroughly detailing Punk Hazard. Describing his and Captain Tashigi's endeavors to figure out what the Strawhats were doing on an island like Punk Hazard, encountering Trafalgar Law, the deadly bioweapon gas, the betrayal of Commander Vergo, the experiments on children. Reliving it all on paper was somehow worse, so he switched from his direct report to the personnel reports buried a few files under. It was that time again, where he would report on his officers and submit it to his higher ups, who would in turn hand out promotions as per earned basis.

Most of the men under him were...not exactly promotion material. Good men, but hardly any stood out for promotion. They had been put into the G5 for a reason, and most of them would stay there till they either died, or retired from the forces. He skipped around the papers in the folder, filling in lines here and there, noting issues, complaints, merits, etc. It was at least less aggravating than reliving getting the shit beaten out of him by pirates. As he got towards the back of the file, he landed on Tashigi's progress sheet. His pen stopped cold.

She'd done well at Punk Hazard. She'd put the lives of their unit and the lives of innocent children above her own, reminded him that justice was important in actions, not just words. Her heart never wavered, even when it was arguably in his body. She'd even handled that curveball. He could honestly say he never expected to be body swapped with anyone, let alone with her, that was for sure.

He snorted and shook his head slightly, bemused. She'd done well. Exceptionally well. He stared at the sheet in front of him, and it occurred to him like fog moving in over mountains that it was likely that this would get her promoted. Promoted. She'd get command of her own unit, her own ship probably. She'd be transferred. His breath caught for a moment. She'd been by his side for years. Longer than any other marine he'd worked with. Since Loguetown and his chase after Strawhat. To Alabasta, the Battle of Marineford, to all their postings and battles inbetween. He knew her well enough to know how she liked her coffee, how she'd disappear for a full day after receiving her monthly subscription to _Swords _, the magazine all about, well, swords. He specifically had extra men on swabbing duty to mitigate her seeming ability to trip on practically nothing.

She was his cooler head, when warranted, his hotter head. And if he submitted this, she'd get promoted, her dreams a little closer in sight. Thinking about it, Smoker felt unmoored. With a breath, he wrote her accomplishments and shoved the file away from him. By this time it was late, and his injuries ached (his chest in particular, but he wasn't going to think about that.) He turned out the light and waited for sleep to take him. It didn't come, for a long, long time.

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Over the next few days, Smoker felt antsy. He was finally allowed off bedrest and he'd taken to hanging around his warship, a bit like a wraith. It was early morning and he was standing in the crow's nest as the sun peaked blearily through the fog. Therefore he was the first to spot the messenger bird, likely carrying their next orders and missives. He turned to smoke and met it, taking its burden while it squawked indignantly. He settled down onto the main deck, pulling out a cigar and lighting it. Like he surmised, they had new orders to set out for another island in a few more days, there was mail for his men, and- his heart beat slowed for a moment. An envelope for Tashigi. The official Marine insignia on the outside. He knew what it was, having received his own in the past. Cold seeped into his stomach. He bit into his cigar violently, and finding an ensign, passed off the bag of mail, keeping his orders and nothing else.

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The clock on his wall read midday, and Smoker had holed himself up in his office, looking over the background information needed for his next mission, something about rooting out a smuggling ring on a nearby island. He'd reread the same paragraph at least four times. Normally he would have no trouble concentrating on the matters in front of him, but he couldn't stop picturing the letter for Tashigi, the letter containing her promotion. With an irritated frown, he rubbed his hands over his face and stretched his neck from side to side. The bandages across his torso stretched tightly and he grunted, the minor discomfort an annoying reminder of his loss to Doflamingo, and by extension, remembering Tashigi bursting into the medical bay once she'd been told of his near death. The look on her face had taken his breath away, the pain disappearing for a moment. Nobody looked at him like that. The letter flashed in front of his eyes again and he swore under his breath.

A familiar knock at his door pulled him out of his thoughts, but Tashigi walking through the doorway threw him into a whole slew of others. "Vice Admiral Smoker-san," she greeted with a small smile. She was carrying a cup of coffee and a couple of muffins. Chocolate chip, his favorite. She knew him too well. "Captain," he greeted back, gesturing for her to take one of the chairs in front of his desk. He grabbed a couple of cigars from his coat that was thrown over the back of his chair and placed them in his mouth.

"Did new orders come in?" she placed the chocolate chip muffin on his desk, unwrapping her own blueberry one. He nodded once and lit his cigars, the smoke calming his nerves. Any second now, their comfortable reporte would be pulled out from under him. He tried to picture someone taking her place and it made his breath hitch. "Are you alright, Sir?" she asked, and his eyes flicked over her face, her glasses reflecting the light coming from the lamp on his desk. She'd seen him flinch, despite her poor eyesight. Her eyes roved over his bandaged chest quickly and a tiny frown formed in the corner of her lips.

Ignoring her question, he shuffled the papers on his desk. "Got 'em this morning, we set out in a few days. Smuggling job." He said dismissively, passing her the file he'd received. She glanced through it, but seemed distracted. Here it comes. His shoulders went rigid, bracing for the blow. "I-I um...I saw that you gave me a commendation on your last report…" she had placed her muffin on his desk, untouched, fidgeting her fingers nervously.

"Nothing you didn't deserve, you did good work, Captain," he commented, his voice coming out sounding normal, gravelly and gruff. Not like he was preparing for her to punch him in the chest. She flushed, rosy pink rising high in her cheeks, matching the pink marine coat she wore. "I...Thank you, Sir." She was quiet for a moment and looked at her lap. Smoker took a long drag on his cigars. "I was offered a promotion," she said in a rush. There it was.

Cold spread throughout his body. He found his voice a little too long after she'd spoken, the vacuum of conversation tight and drawn. "Congratulations are in order then, Commodore Tashigi," he smiled tightly, hoping it looked real. Well, it was real, sort of. She was a good Marine, strong, smart, capable. She deserved this, which is why he'd written her up, despite his own personal hang ups.

She flushed again, "Not um, not quite. I- I turned it down," she said, almost too quiet for him to hear. He gaped at her. She what? "I...I still feel like I have a lot to learn here and um, well, the G5 needs a lot of wrangling and-" she was rambling, mistaking his silence with displeasure. He held up a hand, and she went silent. The words struggled out of him, relief making the blood pound in his ears.

"Glad to have you here, Tashigi," his voice was low, his eyes meeting hers. There was a beat, something flashed between them. "Well, I'll review these and get back to you, Sir!" She was looking somewhere over his shoulder, the words rushing out of her mouth. "I'll also get you those reports on ship repairs you asked for, and um…" she leapt out of her chair, scurrying backward towards the door, moving so quickly he was truly amazed that she didn't trip.

Just before the door closed, she peeked over her shoulder at him, "Glad to be here, Smoker-san," she whispered, the pink high on her cheeks. The door closed and he could hear her practically running from his office. He sat there, stunned for a second, replaying her face over and over again in his head. A smile crept across his face, which he quickly snuffed out, returning to his papers, this time reading the damn paragraph and comprehending what it was trying to tell him.


End file.
